letter to my worst enemies
Hey, what's up? How are you doing? It's been a long time, eh? I can't believe it's already 2010. The beautiful weather just reminded me of the summer we finally met.
Adam drove a little boxy car. You two commandeered the front while I lounged in the backseat, legs kicked up over a huge, weird stain left by some random car part. I wore a skirt. It was extremely hot out, the kind of hot that almost hurts just to be sitting in. We listened to They Might Be Giants almost the entire way - I think Green Day or something interjected for awhile, but only momentarily. We all sang out hearts out. Eventually you relocated to the backseat with me. It was so windy, and we were wearing big dumb sunglasses.
That night we went to some weird hip show with Crista and Rob and Adam. The next day was the music festival. The whole reason I even came out of Pittsburgh to meet up with you.
When we got there, we could already hear The Go! Team echoing through the fields. We ran to reach the stage as soon as possible. It was so ungodly hot. We bobbed around with the band and a few dozen other fans. They put on an amazing show. It felt like it was just for us. It basically was. After they finished up, we went to the TMBG merch table. We talked with a lady that had been traveling with them for years. We bought t-shirts and got free cassette tapes.
At this point you're probably thinking "Hey wait a sec. I hate you. I'm done reading this."
But in the event that you're STILL reading this, here's some stuff I've been thinking about; you.
Why? Good question. Why, after almost exactly three years to the date of us breaking up, am I still wondering how you're doing? Why am I reading through old Panda-Poco entries? Why do I still have a box in my attic with a pillow covered in Charizards and the tiniest panda that roars when you squeeze him?
Alan, there's something about you that's made it impossible for me to forget about you. Do I sit in my room longing for you? No, it's not like that. I'm not even regretting what I did to you, exactly. My relationship with Brendan taught me a lot about myself. But I do wish I had handled things differently. Had some self control. Treated you with any kind of decency.
I wish I would have been honest with myself.
I miss being your friend. A lot.
I'm realistic. I know we'll probably never even speak again. Still, I think about you when I listen to Ben Folds.
And I twisted it wrong just to make it right
I had to leave myself behind
And I've been flying high all night
So come pick me up
I've landed
Hilarious how that song applies to me now, huh?
I'm going to Edinboro this weekend, and I'm almost relieved just to know you're still there.
-
I'm thinking about Alan while I'm pouring cups of coffee. Talking Heads come on while I'm handing someone their change. The customer hums along to the tune. I hum too.
I'm thinking about Travis while I'm counting my drawer. David Bowie comes on and is singing about getting to church on time. I wonder what will happen when he comes to visit. I wonder if he still feels like we've known each other for years. I try to imagine what he smells like. Chris comes in and tells me to hurry up and clock out. He pretends like he's kidding.
It's around this time that I start to wonder what I'm doing with my life. I have a number of options people have posed to me. I could move to Connecticut and live "near" Travis. I could move to Wisconsin and live with Joe and some guy. I imagine living like I did back before Brendan and I were an old married couple. What's it like to have a life? To be that girl that people tease because she's so popular. How was I ever that person?
I'm thinking about getting the fuck out of Dunkin Donuts when my favorite in-store song comes on. I smile because it isn't the ska version. My fingers immediately start to tap to the rhythm. I want to dance straight back to the office and tell Chris I'm quitting this shit hole. I want to run outside and gasp in the fresh air so hard I choke. I probably wouldn't even get fired. Who else are they going to find to work at 4:30 in the morning?
Well there's some sad things known to man
but there ain't too much sadder than the tears of a clown
when there's no one around
Oh yeah baby, baby baby oh yeah, baby
Who even cares. Who even cares that I'm writing in a LiveJournal. Who even fucking reads this.
-
Brendan and I had gotten into some kind of fight. I had wanted to do this for awhile, but didn't really have an opportunity until now. I grabbed Brendan's iPod and left the apartment. It was dark out, but still warm. Warm enough to take a walk by the lake.
I turned up the volume and put on some good music. Gripping the iPod, I approached Mallory Lake in serene silence. The geese were still there. There was a silhouette sitting on a bench. It was Alan.
"Okay, I'm officially a stalker now. What do I say to him? Do I just sit next to him and say nothing? Do I just wrap my arms around him and cry? I can't do this. I'm going back...right after I just walk a little closer to make sure it's him. Shit, shit, shit I'm so scared."
The music still pounded in my ears. I sat on a bench about 100 feet to his side.
"Okay, he definitely sees you. Walk over and say hi. Do SOMETHING."
I spent the next hour sitting, staring at the water. I looked over out of the corner of my eye on occasion to see what Alan was doing. He eventually stood up and walked away. My heart was hurting. I was shaking.
I never even found out if it was really him.
Adam drove a little boxy car. You two commandeered the front while I lounged in the backseat, legs kicked up over a huge, weird stain left by some random car part. I wore a skirt. It was extremely hot out, the kind of hot that almost hurts just to be sitting in. We listened to They Might Be Giants almost the entire way - I think Green Day or something interjected for awhile, but only momentarily. We all sang out hearts out. Eventually you relocated to the backseat with me. It was so windy, and we were wearing big dumb sunglasses.
That night we went to some weird hip show with Crista and Rob and Adam. The next day was the music festival. The whole reason I even came out of Pittsburgh to meet up with you.
When we got there, we could already hear The Go! Team echoing through the fields. We ran to reach the stage as soon as possible. It was so ungodly hot. We bobbed around with the band and a few dozen other fans. They put on an amazing show. It felt like it was just for us. It basically was. After they finished up, we went to the TMBG merch table. We talked with a lady that had been traveling with them for years. We bought t-shirts and got free cassette tapes.
At this point you're probably thinking "Hey wait a sec. I hate you. I'm done reading this."
But in the event that you're STILL reading this, here's some stuff I've been thinking about; you.
Why? Good question. Why, after almost exactly three years to the date of us breaking up, am I still wondering how you're doing? Why am I reading through old Panda-Poco entries? Why do I still have a box in my attic with a pillow covered in Charizards and the tiniest panda that roars when you squeeze him?
Alan, there's something about you that's made it impossible for me to forget about you. Do I sit in my room longing for you? No, it's not like that. I'm not even regretting what I did to you, exactly. My relationship with Brendan taught me a lot about myself. But I do wish I had handled things differently. Had some self control. Treated you with any kind of decency.
I wish I would have been honest with myself.
I miss being your friend. A lot.
I'm realistic. I know we'll probably never even speak again. Still, I think about you when I listen to Ben Folds.
And I twisted it wrong just to make it right
I had to leave myself behind
And I've been flying high all night
So come pick me up
I've landed
Hilarious how that song applies to me now, huh?
I'm going to Edinboro this weekend, and I'm almost relieved just to know you're still there.
-
I'm thinking about Alan while I'm pouring cups of coffee. Talking Heads come on while I'm handing someone their change. The customer hums along to the tune. I hum too.
I'm thinking about Travis while I'm counting my drawer. David Bowie comes on and is singing about getting to church on time. I wonder what will happen when he comes to visit. I wonder if he still feels like we've known each other for years. I try to imagine what he smells like. Chris comes in and tells me to hurry up and clock out. He pretends like he's kidding.
It's around this time that I start to wonder what I'm doing with my life. I have a number of options people have posed to me. I could move to Connecticut and live "near" Travis. I could move to Wisconsin and live with Joe and some guy. I imagine living like I did back before Brendan and I were an old married couple. What's it like to have a life? To be that girl that people tease because she's so popular. How was I ever that person?
I'm thinking about getting the fuck out of Dunkin Donuts when my favorite in-store song comes on. I smile because it isn't the ska version. My fingers immediately start to tap to the rhythm. I want to dance straight back to the office and tell Chris I'm quitting this shit hole. I want to run outside and gasp in the fresh air so hard I choke. I probably wouldn't even get fired. Who else are they going to find to work at 4:30 in the morning?
Well there's some sad things known to man
but there ain't too much sadder than the tears of a clown
when there's no one around
Oh yeah baby, baby baby oh yeah, baby
Who even cares. Who even cares that I'm writing in a LiveJournal. Who even fucking reads this.
-
Brendan and I had gotten into some kind of fight. I had wanted to do this for awhile, but didn't really have an opportunity until now. I grabbed Brendan's iPod and left the apartment. It was dark out, but still warm. Warm enough to take a walk by the lake.
I turned up the volume and put on some good music. Gripping the iPod, I approached Mallory Lake in serene silence. The geese were still there. There was a silhouette sitting on a bench. It was Alan.
"Okay, I'm officially a stalker now. What do I say to him? Do I just sit next to him and say nothing? Do I just wrap my arms around him and cry? I can't do this. I'm going back...right after I just walk a little closer to make sure it's him. Shit, shit, shit I'm so scared."
The music still pounded in my ears. I sat on a bench about 100 feet to his side.
"Okay, he definitely sees you. Walk over and say hi. Do SOMETHING."
I spent the next hour sitting, staring at the water. I looked over out of the corner of my eye on occasion to see what Alan was doing. He eventually stood up and walked away. My heart was hurting. I was shaking.
I never even found out if it was really him.